


with cup half empty and lungs half full

by rowenabane



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Drowning, M/M, Sea Monsters, Supernatural Elements, Thriller, lake monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowenabane/pseuds/rowenabane
Summary: “Does your family live around here?” Dejun asks. Kun nods.“We all live close to the lake,” he says. “We always have.”
Relationships: Qian Kun/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86
Collections: NCT Spookfest 2020





	with cup half empty and lungs half full

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violetpeche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetpeche/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANY!!!!!!! homie your presence is a gift that keeps on giving, and I can never thank you enough for all your support and love. This was originally meant to drop on your exact birthday but I got the spookfest dates wrong so OOOFFF 
> 
> love you homie!!!! mwah mwah mwah!! <3 have a wonderful day!!!

The first time Dejun sees the lake, he is struck by the oppressive thought of how easy it would be to drown in that crystal water.

The thought is out of place under the bright summer sky, the lake houses partially obscured by trees and roads. The air is balmy as he steps out of the car, his head empty save for that one, distressing thought. What if he slipped under? Would there be someone to pull him out? How far would he sink through the water, how far could he possibly go?

The lake looks like a flat pane of glass set into the earth. The sky stares down into it, all focus, all reflection.

“Hey!” 

Dejun turns and sees Yangyang and Kunhang with a large cooler suspended between them. Kunhang raises a hand and the cooler tips dangerously to the side. 

“Hey!” He yells again, squinting into the setting sun. “Are you gonna help us with this?”

The lake holds him in its spell for a single moment longer, until he tears his eyes away and jogs over to Kunhang. 

“Of course,” he says, placing his hand next to Kunhang’s on the plastic handle. The sudden weight of the cooler jolts his arm downward.

They make their way to the lake house, a solitary building on a hill overlooking the lake. The porch wraps around the entirety of the house, all wood and dangerously antique sidings. They set the cooler down and Yangyang pulls the keys out of his pocket. Dejun is fairly sure he did some extreme haggling to get them from his parents.

Yangyang unlocks the doors with a grin, flinging the doors open as if he is a magician on a stage. The door opens to reveal darkness. 

“Welcome to my crib,” he says as if this is MTV and not the woods. “Vacation time starts now!”

Dejun peers into the darkness. Huh. Vacation time.

…

Dejun is two days into Yangyang’s “extra special vacation trip” when he sees the man in the baby blue canoe. He can’t make out much about the man except the bright blue of his boat, reflected across the glassy lake waters. The man is a speck in the distance and Dejun squints, as if that will bring him into focus. 

The view from the porch is amazing—it affords him a glimpse of all the other houses along the shore, the people playing in the water. From here they all look like small, plastic miniatures. Too perfect to be real.

Dejun squints again at the man in the baby blue canoe. He blends in with the water.

…

So here’s the thing: Dejun doesn’t know exactly how to spend the summer.

He’s walking along the shore of the lake, the water gently lapping at his ankles as if to beg him to come in. He can see Yangyang and Kunhang farther out, yelling and splashing.

The water is dark and deep, even as the surface glitters in the sunlight. Fathomless. Terrifying. Dejun keeps walking.

A familiar canoe slides across the water, its owner pressing an oar into the grit of the shoreline. It slows, the ripples thinning as they come to lap at Dejun’s ankles. Baby blue.

The boy in the baby blue canoe has dark raven hair, black at first but blue when the sunlight hits it just so. He can’t be more than a couple of years older than Dejun himself, but he moves with practiced, mature ease. His eyes are the same color as the lake, dark and shining all at once.

“Hi,” the boy says, and  _ oh _ , how his voice wraps around Dejun, small rippling waves of warm water and sunlight. “You look lost.”

Dejun snaps out of his momentary daydream, something about sun and water, and watches the boy rest his oar on his lap. “What?”

“Well?” the boy asks. “Are you lost?”

Dejun quickly shakes his head. “Oh, no,” he stammers out, the boy’s eyebrow twitching up in amusement. “I’m just...walking.”

The boat is so close that Dejun could reach out and touch it, and he can see all the small details: the white bottom, the scratched sides, the worn paint. Even with all the wear it is lovingly cleaned, polished with time and use and affection. It has a heart of its own, Dejun thinks as he watches water lap at the sides. Baby blue.

“Walking with nowhere to go is just the same as being lost.” The boy smiles warmly, teeth white, eyes dark. “Come on. I’ll take you somewhere.”

Dejun’s stupid heart and equally stupid brain shout over each other, his body a cage match of curiosity and caution. “That’s a dangerous thing to hear a stranger say,” he says, his brain pounding his warring heart into bits. “I don't even know your name.”

The boy smiles and rests his chin in his hands. Dejun’s heart thumps once, thumps twice, keeps beating for another round in the ring. 

“My name is Kun,” the boy says, his blue-black hair the exact color of the sky at midnight. “What about you, mysterious and distrusting stranger?”

“Dejun,” he responds, wiping his palms against his shirt. “My name is Dejun.”

“Dejun,” Kun says slowly, turning the name over in his mouth like a water-rounded stone. The way he says it sends warm shivers down his spine. He wants him to say it again, and again, and again. “Nice name.”

“Well, it's the only one I’ve ever had.”

Kun laughs at that, the sound akin to the gentle rush of waves to shore. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

“Well then Dejun,” Kun says. “Would you like me to take you somewhere?”

_ Take me anywhere, _ Dejun thinks.  _ Take me wherever you’re going. _

He doesn’t say that, though. Instead, he just nods, palms sweating and heart racing, the lake cool around his ankles. “Yeah,” he says, the words a soft exhale. “I would like that.”

…

Kun takes him for a slow turn around the lake, never straying far from shore. It comforts Dejun to know that land is never far away, and he wonders if Kun does that on purpose to ease his mind.

“Are you here for the summer?” Kun says, pushing the oar into the water. His arms are thinly muscled, the actions easy. 

“Yeah,” Dejun says, tearing his eyes away. “I’m here with my friends.”

“Oh?” Kun looks at him. “Why aren’t you with them?”

“They wanted to go swimming,” Dejun admits, dipping a hand into the small ripples the boat makes as it cuts through the water. “I, um, I can’t swim.”

Dejun doesn’t think the statement is funny in any way, but Kun’s eyes glitter with humor. “You came to a lake but don’t know how to swim?”

Dejun shrugs, watching his reflection waver in the lake. “I still wanted to come,” he admits. “Figured I needed a change.”

“Let me guess,” Kun says. “You live in the city, don’t you?”

Dejun nods. Kun lets out a breathy laugh.

“You should learn to swim,” he says. “While you’re here. It's a helpful skill to have.”

“I know,” Dejun says. “But it's scary, you know? All this water…” he plunges his fingers into his reflection and it turns to ripples of overlapping circles. “You can’t even see the bottom.”

“It's a deep lake,” Kun admits. “But there are shallower parts. The water around here is only, oh, maybe 5 or 6 feet deep. When the sun shines just right you can see to the bottom.”

He keeps paddling, Dejun staring at the back of his head, the way the light weaves through the black and blue of his hair. “Are  _ you _ here for vacation?”

“No,” Kun says. “I live here. My family has lived by this lake for generations.”

Dejun is daydreaming again, he knows it, but he imagines Kun on this lake in the fall, in the spring, imagines it frozen over in the winter. He imagines Kun cleaning the baby blue canoe and putting it away in a shed, resting until the sun came out once more.

“Does it annoy you when people come for the summer?” Dejun asks. Kun shrugs.

“Sometimes yes, sometimes no,” he says. He gives Dejun an almost electric grin. “Hey, I can teach you to swim this summer, if you’d like. How long are you here for?”

“A month,” Dejun says. 

“Perfect,” Kun says. 

Before long Dejun can see the lake house on the hill and the bottom of the canoe is scraping the sandy ground. Safety, he thinks, before realizing he never once felt unsafe in Kun’s canoe.

“Thanks for the ride,” Dejun says as he stumbles out of the boat. Kun smiles, teeth white, eyes dark, smile so beautiful it hurts. 

“I’ll see you around,” Kun says, waving at him before pushing off into the water again. He turns away but Dejun still watches him go, entranced, the water glimmering in the light like hundreds of fallen stars.

…

Yangyang and Kunhang come back eventually, hair dripping wet, smiles wide. They practically tackle him as they come through the door, wrapping him in soggy hugs. 

“You have to come out with us sometime,” Yangyang says brightly. “It's a ton of fun!”

Dejun nods and smiles, but his mind is far, far away.

…

“Are you sure?” Kun asks, tilting his head slightly. 

“Yeah,” Dejun says, rubbing his palms together, staring at the water. “I can do it.”

Even now his bravery ebbs and flows, the water dark in the evening light. The long summer sunsets turn everything hues of gold, but they turn the water jet black. He spent half the day with Yangyang and Kunhang, hiking through the woods and getting lost, but as soon as they had returned he had seen Kun drifting near the shore. Curious. Baby blue.

“Swimming isn’t hard,” Kun says, pushing the canoe closer to shore. It bobs in just several feet of water, the rocking motion making Dejun dizzy. They are on the other side of the lake, in a shady area surrounded by trees. It’s secluded and quiet, air sticky with humidity.

Kun jumps out of the boat, the water shallow enough that he can stand. He extends a hand to Dejun.

“It’ll be easier to learn in the shallows,” he says calmly, the water soaking his white shirt so that it sticks to every part of him like thin paper. 

Dejun tries to tell himself he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even care that the sun is setting, that mosquitos are beginning to buzz behind his ears. When Kun jumps out of the canoe he wants to follow him, even though the water is murky and fear rises in him, unbidden, a small wave.

Kun treads water with his hand out to him. "The water is warm," he says smoothly. 

Dejun dips his fingers into the water, watching ripples flow out from his touch. It  _ is _ warm, as living as skin.

"I don't know," Dejun says, even as his chest pulls him to the water. 

"We can always go back," Kun says gently. "I can grab you a life vest, we can try another day."

Dejun shakes his head, taking a deep breath. The canoe rocks beneath his feet as he stands, knees wobbling.

“No,” Dejun says, eyes glued to the softly rippling water. “I can do it.”

Kun swims back a little to give him space. “Don’t be afraid,” he says. “I’m right here.”

Dejun takes a deep breath and leans forward, intending to ease into the water. Toes first. Legs next. Hips. Torso. It doesn’t work, though, because the small boat tips right over and he falls face-first into the water, the resounding splash like a cannon boom in his ears.

The water is warm but he is still sinking, arms flailing in the water. The air is pulled out of him and into bubbles that fly to the surface, the world all hazy sunlight beyond the water. He’s sinking, free-falling to the bottom of the lake. Who knows how far he can sink until he hits the bottom? Who knows what lurks down there, in the neverending dark?

Dejun closes his eyes, struggling to kick upward, and feels strong arms encircle his waist, solid among the liquid. Kun pulls him upward and together they break the surface of the water, Dejun gasping for air. His hands are pressed almost painfully against Kun’s chest, bent sharply at the wrist.

“Are you okay?” Kun says frantically, still holding him close. “I should have told you not to stand,” he says softly as if reprimanding himself. Dejun shakes his head.

“At least I’m in the water now,” he says, blinking rivulets of water out of his eyes. He can feel the slope of the lake just beneath his toes. Not too deep. Not unmanageable.

Kun slowly lets go, leaving one hand wrapped around his wrist. He swims back a little to give Dejun space. 

“You have to float,” Kun says. “Try that.”

Dejun takes a shaky breath, all air and no water, and lets his feet tread the water. He flails for a moment as the ground vanishes beneath his feet, no longer there, lost in the swirling depths.

_ It’s not even that deep, _ he snaps at himself.  _ Stop it. _

He lets Kun place a hand on the small of his back, lets him murmur about how to move his wrists and hands. The evening drags out until the water doesn’t scare him anymore, until the ebb and flow is just another heartbeat, outside of his body.

Kun teaches him how to reenter the canoe, holding down one side while Dejun clambers over the other, a graceless tangle of wet limbs. Now that he is out of the water the air seems colder, and he shivers through his shirt. 

Kun smiles at him. “You did pretty well, for your first time.”

“Thanks,” Dejun huffs. “But you don’t have to lie.”

“It’s not a lie,” Kun says. “You just need a little more practice.”

A little more practice. In Dejun’s waterlogged mind that means more time with Kun, more long summer evenings in the water, Kun’s hand resting on his arms, his waist. Always close, but never close enough.

“Okay,” Dejun says, heart thumping as he watches Kun’s muscles work beneath his shirt, skin just visible through the soaked fabric. “Okay.”

…

“Does your family live around here?” Dejun asks. Kun nods.

“We all live close to the lake,” he says. “We always have.”

Haunting. The words are haunting.

…

_ You can do it, _ Dejun thinks, stepping into the water.  _ It's not that deep, _ he reminds himself as he wades out into the water, cold as it slides over his hip, his stomach. He spreads his hands out in front of him, the lake pushing through his fingers. Living. Alive. The water rises to his neck, his chin.

He closes his eyes and dips under the water, ears suddenly clogged, everything going silent. He opens his eyes and sees nothing but green darkness, the refraction of a hundred moving rays of light. He closes his eyes again and propels himself blindly through the water. It molds around him, tugging him wherever it wants him to go.

He reaches out a hand and his knuckles graze against something solid and hollow. He opens his eyes and sees an outline of sky. Baby blue. 

The water relinquishes its tug as he pushes himself out of the water, spluttering. His hands close over the side of Kun’s canoe and he finds its owner peering down at him with a smile.

“You’re getting better,” Kun says, looking towards the shore. It seems so far away. Dejun realizes. He must have gone farther than he thought. “You shouldn’t be alone, though. The deeper waters can be unpredictable.”

“I didn't mean to go so far,” Dejun says, letting Kun pull him into the boat. It rocks with the addition of his weight. The air is sticky with humidity but still cooler than the water and he shivers, his shirt resting on a chair somewhere in the lake house.

Kun looks at him, eyes flickering over his chest, and then quickly looks away.

…

Maybe it was eventual, Dejun tells himself. Maybe it was always bound to happen. The lake and the summer and the sun all coincide and Dejun finds himself staring at Kun, his clinging wet shirt, his damp hair. 

“Will you miss me?” Dejun asks stupidly, the afternoon hot around him. The heat blurs all his edges, makes him a little too confident, a little too reckless. He looks at Kun and his heart beats in time with the water that pulls at the canoe. “After the summer is over?”

Kun pauses, resting the oar on the floor of the canoe. They drift, somewhere between the shore and the unfathomable center of the lake. 

“Would you want me to?” Kun asks. He leans forward, close enough that Dejun can see that Kun’s eyes aren't brown or black but the darkest, most beautiful blue. 

Dejun wants to swallow his tongue, wants to stay silent, but the burning in his skin makes him lean forward. It makes him say: “Maybe.”

Kun smiles, eyes dark as night and the center of the lake.

When Kun kisses him, he can't focus. The summer afternoon is reduced to a single moment, Kun’s mouth against his, skin hot through his drenched shirt. Everything else fades away,  _ everything _ —the hot sun, the rippling of the lake, the soft lapping of water against the canoe. The kiss tastes like sunlight, sun-soaked and soft. Kun’s lips are warm, but just enough.

Dejun wraps his arms around Kun’s waist, letting him gently kiss his neck. It tickles, the light brushing of Kun’s mouth against his skin enough to pull a small, breathless laugh out of his chest. He feels Kun smile as he presses another kiss to the hollow of his throat.

“I love you,” Dejun says breathlessly, winding his fingers into Kun’s shirt with enough force to squeeze water into his palms. The lake water drips down his forearm and onto the bottom of the canoe. “I think?”

Kun pulls back for a moment, eyes shifting like the lake, smile as bright as the sun’s reflection over the water. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Dejun says. “I think.”

Kun grins and takes his hand, pressing his wet knuckles to his lips. A single drop of water braces itself in his parted mouth, and his gaze is like the weight of the lake slowly rushing over Dejun’s chest.

“Let me know when you're sure,” Kun breathes, eyes glimmering. He smiles again, and for one brief moment, Dejun tastes sunlight. For one brief moment, he is stunned into silence.

...

And he does, the next evening when he sees Kun out on the lake, drifting close to shore. He runs down the hill and wades out as far as he can, water rising to his chest, and places his hands on the edge of the canoe. Baby blue.

Kun’s eyes are wide when Dejun reaches up and pulls his face down, kissing him once. Oh, how he tastes like all the softest facets of summer, like every sunset and warm day, sticky and sun-soaked. Kun’s hands close over his, damp with lake water.

“I know,” Dejun breathes against Kun’s mouth. “I’m sure.”

Kun kisses him back and the sky is red gold and popsicle sweet, blooming with the promise of tomorrow.

…

Blindly. 

That's the way Dejun swims: blindly, eyes closed, feeling his way through the water. It's also the way he loves Kun: blindly, with no thought to anything more than the next minute, the next hour. He doesn't try to convince himself that Kun will follow him to the city, or that he’ll stay by the lake. He just knows that today they can kiss in the water, can watch the sun set, can lie in each other's arms on the shore. 

He trusts Kun to always know where the shallows are. He trusts Kun to always avoid the deeper parts of the lake. This is not  _ love _ love, Dejun tells himself. This is just a summer memory.

He kisses Kun in the evenings, his eyes dark. He kisses him in the afternoon. The sky is so bright it looks like a painting, each cloud another brushstroke. Baby blue.

“It’s beautiful,” Dejun sighs one evening. “I almost wish I could stay here forever.”

Kun smiles at that.

…

“Can I show you something?” Kun asks one evening, pushing an oar through the water.

“What?”

Kun gives him a small smile, but it does not quite reach his eyes. “It's a secret,” he says. 

Dejun watches the afternoon turn orange and gold, the day limping towards night. He watches the oar pass through the water, in and out, flat as a blade. 

The center of the lake, Dejun realizes slowly. Kun is taking them to the center of the lake.

“You know,” Kun says, wedging the oar beneath his feet. “There are all sorts of legends about this lake.”

The water here is dark, darker than anywhere else. The greens and blues fade to inky black, the lake a void below. Dejun reaches and scoops a handful of it into his palms, only to find it is just as clear and cool as everywhere else in the lake. Not inky black, not different. Just deep.

“What legends?” Dejun asks. He looks over the edge of the baby blue canoe and sees shapes writhe in the darkness, like fish but much, much larger. He tears his eyes away. The shoreline seems impossibly far.

“Kun,” he starts slowly. “What’s that?”

Kun smiles. “Aren't they beautiful?” he says softly, reaching a hand into the water. A hand stretches up out of the water, skin so pale it is almost translucent, and wraps around his wrist. He doesn't seem the least bit fazed.

Dejun looks over the edge of the boat again. He can’t make out anything except fins, vaguely humanoid shapes that gleam white in the dark water. Sometimes he catches glimpses of an arm or hand, startlingly human.

The hand around Kun’s wrist slides back into the water, webbed fingers splayed. He smiles at Dejun expectantly.

“Go ahead,” he says. “It's safe.”

Dejun trusts Kun, trusts him so much that he gently reaches out towards the water despite the stuttering in his chest. A webbed hand reaches up out of the lake and latches onto his wrist, touch cold and slimy. Dejun can see now that small scales glitter the back of the creature’s hand, small and opalescent. They aren’t like snake scales or even fish scales—they are oval in shape, incredibly small and layered across each other.

_ Blindly, _ Dejun thinks. They follow blindly, just like he does.

“What are they?” Dejun whispers, watching the hand sink back into the water. He hears a soft woosh and the water ripples around the boat.

“They live here,” Kun says, running his hand across the water. “They’ve always lived here.”

“But…” Dejun watches a webbed hand plaster itself on the side of the canoe, a white outline against the blue. “What  _ are _ they?”

Kun shrugs lazily. “Who can truly tell?” he says. “They had a name at some point, but that's all forgotten now.” 

Dejun suddenly feels cold, looking over at the water. The surface of the lake bulges and one of the creatures breaks through. The creature looks vaguely feminine, with long blue-black hair and cheekbones that just like blades. Its eyes shift between dark blue and forest green, as unpredictable as the murky waters of the lake. It is oddly beautiful, its ears narrowed to a sharp point, its lips plush and colorless.

The creature makes a chittering noise, soft and questioning, before disappearing below the water again. Dejun leans over the side of the canoe, trying to get another glimpse.

“They’re beautiful,” he gasps, watching a fin glide underneath the water. “Kun, they're beautiful.”

Kun smiles, but the expression is sad, betrayed only by his eyes. “I know.”

“Are they mermaids?” Dejun asks, in awe at the way the creatures sway around each other in tight coils beneath the boat. “Like, honest to God mermaids?”

“Not quite,” Kun says. He places his hands on the edge of the canoe and leans out, so far that the boat tips slightly. He coos gently at the water. “Actually, they quite resent the term.”

“How do you know?” Dejun asks, leaning back so the boat doesn't capsize and throw them both into the water. As beautiful as the creatures are, they are still inhuman, and it terrifies him.

“I just know.” Kun looks up for a second. “You know what the term mermaids brings up?” he asks. “Princesses. Pretty singing ladies with scales and red hair.”

Dejun stares at Kun, watching as he plunges his entire arm into the water. He gasps as the boat rocks.

“Real mermaids,” Kun says quietly, pulling his arm out of the water. “Real mermaids eat flesh.”

Dejun suddenly wishes they were closer to shore.

“Do they…” Dejun’s eyes widen. “Do  _ they _ eat flesh?”

Kun doesn't answer. His arm is wet up to the elbow, and in the late afternoon sunlight, Dejun sees his arm glittering with a fine sheen of tiny, oval scales. His smile is just a tad sharper than it was before.

“Would you like to find out?” he asks. 

Dejun scrambles backward, canoe rocking beneath him. “Kun, you’re scaring me.”

“So many people come through here,” Kun says, reaching into the water again. Another creature rises to the surface, rubbing its face against Kun”s hand. Friendly, as if it knows him. “This area used to be nothing but forest and water. No boats, no tourists, no night lights.” He pushes the creature's hair back and coos at it, chittering like Dejun heard before. “And then the people came.”

“Kun,” Dejun says frantically “Please take me back.”

“They hated the people,” Kun says. “They went to the very bottom of the lake, down until nothing could ever bother them. Things were alright, for a while.” Kun sighs as the creature sinks back under the water. “But the people kept coming. They kept going deeper, and they scared the fish and animals and eventually left nothing but houses and trash.”

Kun’s teeth are as sharp as blades, his dark hair like an oil slick in the light. Dejun whimpers as he hears cooing and chittering from beneath the boat.

“You know,” Kun says. “There was one good thing about the people.” His smile is sharp, his eyes flashing dark blue. “They were more plentiful than the fish.”

A webbed hand presses itself against Dejun’s back and he screams, looking back to see one of the creatures staring at him with huge, green eyes. It takes everything in his body to not stand and capsize the boat. 

“Kun, take me back,” Dejun says again, almost pleading. “I'm scared, please—”

“Didn't you say you wished you could stay here forever?” Kun asks. Dejun shakes his head, trying not to look over the water. 

”Not like this!” he cries out. “Kun please, no—”

Kun smiles and the worst part of it is that some small part of Dejun’s mind wants to follow him blindly into the water, wants Kun to sink those unnaturally sharp teeth into his skin. He shakes the thoughts away but they still linger, implanted there like a stick in the mud. Even now, he follows. Even now, he is blind to the danger.

“Don’t be afraid,” Kun says, kneeling in front of him. “Would I hurt you?”

“Kun, please,” Dejun sobs. “What are you doing?”

“Family is important,” Kun says quietly, taking Dejun’s hand. His eyes are wide and empty, lost and sad. “To me, it is everything.”

Family. Dejun looks over and sees a fin slice through the water, connected to a long, slender arm. His  _ family. _

“Do you remember what I taught you?” Kun says, smiling softly, The sharp teeth ruin the expression, making it too wide and too bright. 

“No, wait!”

Kun stands and jumps into the water and the boat seizes in his wake, the baby blue canoe tipping over. There is a mere second before it hits the water, upside down, tipping Dejun out. The water is cold, the feel of it like a hundred tiny ice cubes pressed against his skin.

He pushes himself through the water clumsily and feels webbed hands pull at him, wrapping around his ankles and feet. He screams and watches precious air drift to the surface, gone forever. He thrashes until the water is almost boiling around him.

Arms encircle his waist, cold.

_ Would I hurt you? _ Kun whispers as they sink together, his voice muted by the rush of the water.  _ Would I ever hurt you? _

Dejun locks his eyes on the dim light of the setting sun. The last thing he will ever see. The last pinpoint of light in the darkness. Kun’s arms tighten around his waist as he struggles, a vice made of muscle and skin.

_ Do you remember what I taught you? _ Kun says into the water, the words a warble of bubbles and water. Dejun shakes his head, lungs burning, straining to hold in air he doesn't have. Everything is dark and cold, shades of light and noise, all blurred.

Just when Dejun thinks his lungs are going to burst, just when he sees pale faces in the darkness with empty void eyes, Kun...lets go.

Just like that. He lets go and Dejun stays suspended for a moment, stunned. He feels a hand on his waist, a strong push and suddenly he remembers: he’s drowning. He can swim. The thoughts overlap and suddenly he is pushing himself through the water, arms burning, the surface so far away, the sun just a small dot in the distance.

Something brushes his ankle but he doesn't stop. He doesn't stop until his hand breaks the surface of the water, until the next, until he is gasping in air until his lungs feel bruised and sore. He treads water just like Kun taught him and looks down, past the surface of the lake. Somewhere in the depths, a pale, sad face looks up at him, eyes all dark, hair the exact color of midnight. The face disappears and Dejun looks to the shore, slapping his arms against the water as he swims. Graceless, he thinks. Kun would be disappointed.

He swims, and keeps swimming, his heart beating so hard against his chest he is afraid it will break free and sink to the bottom of the lake on its own. By the time he reaches the shore he is dragging himself through the water, sides sore, muscles burning. He rolls onto his back in the mud and dirt, the lake rippling softly around him. It ebbs and flows as if it wants him back.

He presses his cheek to the ground and realizes that half of the water running down his face is not lake water, just tears. He can tell because of the way they taste: salty. Unhappy.

He lies on the shore for a long time, the overturned canoe still in the middle of the lake. After a long time, a man emerges from the water and rights it, climbing into it with grace and skill. He looks to the shoreline for a second before paddling away. To where Dejun cannot guess.

The canoe vanishes among the trees. Baby blue.

…

Dejun doesn't see the canoe on the water the next day, or the day after that. Yangyang and Kunhang suggest they go boating but Dejun sees their rented canoe, dull green and practical, and shakes his head. The lake beckons but he can't. He can't do it. Even with his eyes closed, he sees shapes in the water, pale and terrifying. He sees one shape in particular, familiar but not, a monster that didn't act like one. 

He keeps an eye peeled from the porch of the lake house, watching for a familiar blue glint on the water, any shade. Dark blue, like midnight. Light blue, like eggshells. He feels blue, all on the inside as if someone has coated all his emotions with the shade.

He wonders why Kun let him go. He wonders and keeps wondering, and the lake ripples.

…

Blindly.

There’s a party on the shore, an unknown group with a bonfire that eats away at the darkness with all the ferocity of a beast. They laugh in high, raucous bursts, bottles clinking. Dejun sits on the porch and watches a man throw a bottle into the lake and winces at the impact, the ripples that follow. 

Blindly. A man is walking among them, too dark to make out. There is something sinuous in the way he moves, closer to the lake than the land, a curl of water over the shore. He is talking to the man that threw the bottle. From here, Dejun can see his sharp smile.

A canoe wreathed in shadow. Dejun watches Kun and the man drift to the center of the lake. They are talking in the half moonlight, Kun’s hand reaching up to cup the man’s cheek. Dejun’s skin tingles with the memory of a similar touch, the heat of a similar gaze.

Kun stands in the canoe, leaning. The boat tips over and they are both plunged into the water, down, down, down.

Five minutes. Ten. Dejun gets a glass of water. Yangyang and Kunhang are playing Animal Crossing in the kitchen.

15 minutes. Twenty.

Dejun stands at the edge of the porch and watches a single man emerge from the water as if he has been reborn. He rights his canoe. Paddles it into the shadows, the looming trees.

Dejun goes back inside. For one brief moment, the lights blind him.

…

They leave in a couple of days. It has been a blissful sort of vacation, Dejun supposes. Ice cream on Thursday nights. Sitting on the porch and watching movies from Yangyang’s extensive, illegal collection. Hiking. Watching the water, the water, the water.

Everything dulls in comparison to the water. Dejun chants to himself, repeats,  _ We are leaving. I am leaving. I will be gone. _ Soon the lake will be just a shadow in the past, something wet that drips in his dreams.

Oh, how everything dulls in comparison to a pair of dark eyes, a boat on still waters. Dejun stares at the noon sun and recalls Kun’s unnatural eyes, his soft mouth, his voice as fine as the silt along the shore. How can any other summer come close to the one Dejun had found in him? 

Even at his most inhuman, Dejun had loved him. Even then. Even now he casts an eye over the lake, in storm or shine, trying to catch a glimpse. Baby, baby blue.

That night, after Yangyang and Kunhang have passed out to the low drone of late-night television, Dejun slips out onto the porch. He stares at the lake, wondering how it manages that glassy perfection, that stillness defying nature. 

A shadow cuts through the glass like a knife, small. The reflection of the sky upon the water makes it seem like the small boat is flying through the stars.

Dejun steps off the porch. Makes the slow and halting descent down the hill to the share. He stands barefoot on the dry land and watches Kun paddle the canoe as close as the water will allow. Wet and dry. Land and lake. Even now, Dejun is enamored by the way he moves, the faint glimmer of his skin that is only visible in the dark. Small, crystalline scales.

Kun pushes the boat onto the shore and gets out, feet bare. His eyes are dark, his blue hair the night sky, his shimmering skin the stars.

Silence. Dejun can hear the water lapping the side of the canoe, soft and imploring. He realizes he has never once seen Kun on completely dry land. Even now he stands right at the edge of the shore, the lake washing over his toes.

No words. There are no words but those of the lake, whispered silently into the night.

“Why?” Dejun breathes, chest filling with oxygen that feels more liquid than gas. 

Kun tilts his head slightly, looking toward the lake. “Maybe I just wanted to see how well you could swim,” he says, a smile touching the corner of his mouth. Dejun does not smile back. “Maybe I wanted to see if you actually learned something.”

“You tried to drown me,” Dejun says, the horror of it rushing back to him. His hands shake with the memory of cold water, burning muscles, the slush of the shore pressed against his cheek. “You were going to feed me to them, you—”

_ You kissed me, _ his mind supplies.  _ You kissed me and held me and then tried to feed me to the creatures beneath the lake. Creatures like you. _

Kun’s smile is gone. “My family is all I have.”

Sharp teeth. Midnight eyes. Scales that shimmer even in the darkness.

“Did you ever love me?” Dejun asks, throat holding in that one final scream, that one sob to end it all.

Kun’s eyes soften. “Dejun,” he says, voice as soft and musical as it was the first time they met. He says nothing else.

The lake is whispering, softly, calling to him with words that have no voice.  _ Join us, _ it murmurs, a hundred little ripples like music.  _ Join us. _

“I saw you kill a man.”

Two bodies dip below the surface. Only one comes up.

“I would never hurt you,” Kun says, voice almost breaking. He walks backward into the water and Dejun watches it rise to his knees, his waist, his chest. The canoe is forgotten on the shore, a thing moored on uneven ground.

Kun extends a hand reflected over water. “Won’t you trust me again? Just once?”

Dejun looks back at the house, the windows all black. He takes a deep steadying breath as he steps closer to the water, the ground beneath his feet turning to slush.

“You promise,” Dejun says slowly, heart thumping in his chest. One. Two. Baby blue. “You promise you won’t hurt me?”

The water that soaks through Dejun’s shirt is ice cold, his waist going numb. Kun takes his hand, gently drawing him farther out. His eyes are dark enough to rival the night sky.

“I would never hurt you,” Kun says. He smiles as the water climbs up Dejun’s chest, prickles his neck. “You know that.”

Dejun watches the water reflect in his dark eyes as he lets go of his hand. The current draws him back and forth, the loose silt beneath his foot a poor imitation of solid ground. Kun lets out a breathless half-laugh, smile sharper than it was before. Dejun takes a step backward but finds the shore farther away than he remembers, the water deeper than before.

In the dark shallows, something wraps around his ankle.

**Author's Note:**

> The door of the lake house creaks open in the dark and Kunhang blinks one eye open, squinting to the darkness from his place on the couch. There is a set of wet footprints trailing from the door to the living room, quickly drying on the wooden floor.
> 
> "Dejun?" he whispers. "Is that you?"
> 
> Silence, rippling. Even from here, he can hear the lake.


End file.
